


Unspoken

by painapples



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen, Historical Hetalia, M/M, Pre-Relationship, USUK - Freeform, World War II, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27806473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painapples/pseuds/painapples
Summary: Alfred can no longer sleep. Instead, he waits for the alarms to blare and the planes to appear. For Arthur to bleed, and for himself to help.
Relationships: America & England (Hetalia), America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Unspoken

I look into the pitch-black sky. I’m waiting. 

These nights, I cherish and hate the void like feeling that the outside gives away. Because it means uncertainty. But it means relief, too. 

The dark I would gaze at every night from the window is both unnerving and soothing. I don’t know which one’s worse.

But I hate it more when the silence that comes with the dark each night’s broken by a distant buzzing sound. Often, an alarm warns the buzzing beforehand, but we’re not always so lucky. 

The buzzing comes closer, and closer, and closer. 

And it’s louder. 

It’s over our heads. I can’t hear anything but the buzzing of the planes.

Then the whistle. 

It’s terrifying. It’s here. 

Then the black becomes white for a few seconds, closer or further away, it illuminates the buildings just like a lightning. It would be beautiful if it weren’t for what it takes each night. 

By then, I remember you, and you remember me. I always hold you tight, and you don’t let go, despite your protests. You’re bleeding and bruising by the second, and I take care of your wounds as carefully as possible. 

You never scream, never complain. 

You always say it doesn’t matter. It does. 

You say it doesn’t hurt that much. But your eyes always tell the truth.

I’m here to take care of you, that’s what a hero does. You always scowl when I say that, and I grin a little because of it. 

And it’s in those moments when the white has become red, the buzzing’s replaced with crumbling buildings, and your body is aching, that I realize what you mean to me, how much it hurts to see you feeling each hit almost every night as if it were you the one who’s falling apart, instead of the buildings. It is what’s happening, actually. 

I also realize that I would take your place at any chance to stop you from suffering like that. I once thought that out loud, and you looked at me, I looked back, directly to your tired eyes, then glanced back down to the gauze. Neither said anything. 

There’s something unspoken, I know. A lingering touch here or there. A soft glance from you, from me.

But I don’t think often about it, it’s not the time. Not now. 

Nothing’s alright now, and it won’t be alright tomorrow. 

But it will be, I’m certain of that. Someday, there will be time for us to heal, to rebuild, to rest again. 

For the unspoken to be said out loud. 

I feel that what a brighter future may bring for us -far or not- is totally worth it. 

It’s worth fighting for it.


End file.
